Desert of Trees
by ShineBright
Summary: Sheppard and his team embark on another mission. Another troublesome mission... McKay and Sheppard spend more time with Carson than they care to. It's Finished! Wee-hoo! My first fan-fic is complete. I can't believe it ended up so long.
1. And so it begins

Hi! This is my first fan fic! I figured instead of reading everyone else's and waiting for updates I should do my own. So here it is!! Please review!!!!!!

Oh, and I own nothing. I don't own stargate atlantis, its characters or anything to do with it. So don't sue me. This is just for some non-profit fun.

**Desert of Trees**

**Chapter One**

Major Sheppard wiped the sweat off his forehead with the sleeve of his jacket.

_This place is so dang hot. _

He puts on his cocky smile to encourage his team, and stands up. It would be no use to keep resting under the barren trees as the sun rose directly over.

"It must be noon," Tayla says as she falls into step with the Major and the other weary troops.

_When does she not say the obvious?_

"I'm hungry."

_And when does Mckay not complain?_

Ford remained silent and John was thankful that at least he had one military man on his team. It was beyond him how he got two civilians stuck on his team. Two words for them. Boot Camp. Granted, Tayla was a good fighter and very useful- but keeping quite wasn't her forte. McKay was smart, and yes, as much as Sheppard hated to admit it, he had helped them out of many a bind...but still...Cramming a donut in his mouth to keep him quiet....

Sheppard shook himself; it would not do to let his mind wonder.

"McKay, any signs of life? Vegetation other than these five leaved trees?"

"What? You can't see for yourself? Am I answer-figure-it-out-man?"

"Just thought that if there were food, you'd be the one to find it."

_At least that'll shut him up._

The team trekked on, back to the star gate. The trip had been a complete waste of time, there weren't any ZPMs on P02356. Heck, other than the four of them there wasn't even life. But Weir had wanted to check thoroughly every planet that they had an address for.

"Alright guys, two more miles and we'll be there."

"How can you tell?" McKay asked.

"Bread crumbs."

"My feet hurt."

"Ford, carry McKay."

"Yessir."

Pouting, McKay kicks at the sand and pushes Ford away.

A mile later, McKay collapses. Tayla falls down next to him, happy for a break. Ford quickly follows and Sheppard, frowning, looms over his collapsed team.

_Oooh, if only I could fall down there with them...In the warm sand...Off my feet..._

"One mile. Get up."

They look at him, shaking their heads, and gasping for air.

"Please, sir, do not make that a direct order," Ford gasped.

John wouldn't do that to them. His own feet were screaming for mercy, and his throat was as dry as the sand that was creeping into his boots. He looked past his team, into the horizon, and it appeared as if they were in an ocean of sand. But they were closer...that he knew...the closer to the star gate, the less barren trees. How trees ended up in the middle of this place, he didn't know...That was for McKay to think about later.

He smiled at the bullet holes he shot into the trees they had passed on their way in...breadcrumbs.

"Rest up then. I'll secure the perimeter."

He looked around, and then sat down right next to his team. Ford offered a weak smile.

"Any water left?"

"We finished it about a mile back, sir," Ford responded.

"Then we'd better get moving, or we'll keep getting weaker. On your feet."

"Ten-hut," McKay mumbled as he pulled himself up.

"What was that McKay?"

McKay just shook his head, and the Major let it pass. No sense in making morale dip even lower.

John walked ahead as the others kept pace with him...granted it was more like a shuffle than a stride to keep up with, but that was all he could handle.

_Water._

Figures flanked the horizon, looking more like a cityscape, or a line of great pillars. Sheppard knew he was in no condition to fight with any enemy, but he also knew that to stay in place would be death as their bodies shriveled under the sun. Or rather-suns.


	2. So there is life on this planet oops?

**Chapter 2**

"We come in peace!" Sheppard shouted, "Some water and we'll be on our way."

A strange, human figured, man separated himself from the others and stepped forward, no more that three feet from SGA.

"How did you get here?"

"The stargate..."

The strange man arched his eye brow and motioned for his men to advance.

Sheppard eyed their weapons wearily and licked his lips. His mouth was dryer than sand paper; swallowing saliva was no more helpful than drinking sawdust.

"Seriously, we mean no harm," his voice croaked, "If we could have some water, and then we could chat more."

"I am Dyros, leader of this tribe."

"Sheppard, sub- liter."

"You are welcome here. Come, let's drink together."

Dyros's men turn away and Sheppard nods at his team to follow.

"Ah, how exactly far is this-er-place-we're going to?" McKay asked.

"Not far. Only a few paces ahead, and we will provide streams of flowing water into your glass. As much as you desire."

"Food?"

"Feasts."

John's team muttered in fascination as they followed their hosts. He lagged behind...something was wrong..._something_ had to be wrong...


	3. Food?

**Chapter 3**

_Something's still wrong..._

But so far the strange people have not lied to them. Their village, which was made of a circle of tents around a small triangle building, was indeed only a few paces away, and in that center building was a feast. A feast of immense proportions. John considered it could feed all of Atlantis up to three helpings. There were steaks, beers, hotdogs, sausages, turkey sandwiches... Dyros and his men left them alone, stating they had already eaten their fill.

"Alright! Crawfish!" Rodney yelped as he dished some onto his plate.

John's eyes scanned the table...there were no crawfish.

"Ford, what are you planning on eating?"

"Tacos and some ravioli, some rice-"

To John's eyes, nonesuch things were on that table.

"No one eat a thing," he whispered coarsely, "do not even touch the water-or beer."

"Dang, not even the Hawaiian Punch?"

"_Ford_."

"Yes sir."

To John's eyes there was no Hawaiian punch.

His glance met Tayla's.

"I do not see punches or this taco thing he speaks of. There is fruit."

"Ok...Mess food around on your plates, make it look like you've eaten something so that we won't appear rude."

"But I'm hungry, a taste, just to see..."

"_McKay._"

McKay answered with a silent glare, but it was lost on Sheppard who was still eyeing the steak slathered in A1 sauce and oozing pink. Noticing the military man wasn't watching, McKay slipped a food item, to him it was a wrapped chocolate bar, and stuffed it in his pocket.


	4. Talking too much

**Chapter 4**

The team surmised that the foods that appeared to them were what they desired. The Major smashed some peas on his plate, he didn't know he liked peas that much...sure, he always got them at the mess hall, but all along he though it was habit.

_Well you learn something new every day. I like peas._

He stopped his musings and looked up as he heard Dyros's footsteps.

The man was covered in dust and let out a few choking coughs.

"You are free to go. You are not prisoners here, but there is a great sandstorm out, and anyone that is not accustomed to this land will surely get lost and perish. I have a spare room if you would like to stay."

"How long do these storms last?"

"No more than a day."

_Nothing else to do but bunker down for the night._

Sheppard nods.

"Thank you," Tayla coos, "We are honored by your hospitality."

"Yes, the feast was completely unbelievable."

Dryos beams and leads them to an empty room off the dining hall.

The spare room was more like a cement dome. Sheppard laid down on one of the blankets provided to them. At least it was cooler in here, and he noticed the marked relief on his team's faces.

Ford tested the door, it was indeed unlocked, and once again Dryos's people were true to their word.

"Some time for a sand storm. We were lucky they found us."

_How lucky were we? It was entirely possible we could have made it to the stargate before the storm would have hit._

"So, what are we going to do?" Mckay asked as he claimed the rounded corner as his napping spot, "Play I spy? I spy with my little eye-Oh,uh, CONCRETE. Concrete, concrete and not a thing to eat or-"

"Rodney, we are going to shut up- conserve our energy and take a nap. Once the storm's over we still have a bit less than a mile to go. I'll stay up, Ford, when an hour or so passes you'll take my place...Let's just rest, okay?"

The Major watched his people lay down and close their eyes, knowing that they were not truly napping; who could sleep on a strange planet? It was hard enough to get to bed at Atlantis. Still, from his experience, and from his readings, particularly Robert Ludlum books, he did believe, "Rest is a weapon."

By morning, they may have been rested, but their stomachs growled and throbbed in hunger, their lips had valleys of dry, red cracks, and their mouths were so dry it seemed it was shrinking in and wrinkling up. They had to get out of there. But the whirl of the winds and the coughing noises from outside told them the storm persisted.

"Sir, I'm starving, I don't think even if the storm was gone I could make it to the stargate. Least not without water," Ford said slowly, as if unsure he could speak at all.

"I am impaired as well."

"All we have to do is ask for some food."

"No. We don't know if it's poison, or if our body systems can even digest it."

"We can't digest lettuce or gum and we still..."

"No."

For the first time, his team glared at him. A mutinous glare. John knew hunger could twist people's mind, especially if food was so close, and yet so unattainable. Did they not understand he was suffering as much as they were?

"Look, guys," he added to his order, "It's not like I'm not thirsty and all," he wiped blood off his lips as if to prove his point, "But we just-can't-risk-it. It's only been a couple of days without food and water. You know that we can survive seven days without water, and 14 without food. So it's not like we're gunna die."

"..sure feel like it."

"_Ford_," The major then sighed and told his Lieutenant that it was his turn once again to stand guard. Fatigue was ebbing at the major, and he could think of nothing other than curling up in the burlap-like blanket and falling asleep...blissfully unaware of his thirst...or so he hoped.

Once the Major was asleep, the others drew into a tight circle around McKay's blanket.

"He is asleep," Tayla whispered.

"Look, we gotta eat. I don't think the Major's thinking right."

"McKay, I don't know...orders are orders. I'd die for food right now, but..."

"You'll die without it."

"The longer we persist without food, the more our bodies will get used to it and I believe the hunger pains will stop. I have been without food before."

As their hushed voices battled back and forth, soft footsteps approached.

"We should just ask. Just ask and see if the food is poisonous, or what it's made of."

"Major Sheppard told us to hide what we knew as to not appear rude."

Dryos threw open the door and smiled down at his visitors. Two armed guards stood behind him, with pillar straight posture. They reminded McKay of the British guards.

"All is well I trust? I would like to discuss why you come through the stargate and where you are from, now that you are fed."

The voice woke John up, and he peeped an eye open. Slowly, he scrambled to his knees.

_Why did they have to come on his break? Ugh, I'm so tired. I'm tired of being tired in fact._

"Actually, about the food thing...What is it? Some sort of hologram, a fixed projection that somehow interacts with our perception, because-"

_What was McKay saying?_

"You mean you did not eat it?"

"Um, no?"

The guards raise their guns.

"Why not?"

"It...it.."

"McKAY! Shut-up!"

They all turned to see John heading towards them.

"Can't a man nap? Sheesh."

"I repeat, why did you not eat?"

McKay looked pleadingly at the Major.

He shrugged.

"You got us in this mess, go ahead."

McKay nodded slowly, it was beginning to dawn on him that food was a touchy subject and he should have never mentioned anything.

"I...I...thought that maybe our systems couldn't di-i-gest it."

"Why?"

"It all looked different to each of us."

"You figured that out?"

"I did-well, w-"

"You do not trust us? We cannot be friends with people who do not trust us. How can we trust them?"

Dryos gave a curt nod after finishing his speech.

John watched as the guards' fingers tightened on the trigger and aimed their nozzles at McKay. Ford and Tayla dove for the corner as McKay stood like a deer in the headlights. His brain was mush, and his eyes were vacant with fear.

_Oh noo...Why it always me? Helloooo Carson..._

With no more than a sigh, Sheppard dove for McKay, knocking the scientist out of the way. The bullet found a new victim as it drilled itself into Sheppard's stomach; the other passed overhead and lodged itself in the cement wall.

"That should teach you to trust us."

With that the men left, and a click of the door told them that they were locked in.

The Major rolled off of McKay and clutched his hands onto his gushing stomach. At first there was nothing, pain that is. Slowly a shiverous wave of icy cold surged through his body, followed by a burning current pulsing in his veins. It was as if thousands of killer bees had plunged their stingers into his side. A wave of nausea overcame him, and he leaned over hurling up bile, then blood.

"This does not look good."

_Thank you, Tayla. My side...Oh God save me. My team needs me. Oh God, the pain._

He had been shot before. Ok, he had been shot at least once a month. Yes, he did have a bed permamintly reserved for him at the infirmary. But this was bad...this was worse that ever before. Blackness edged at the corner of his eyes, and his breath came in labored pants.

_Oh noo, I'm not falling asleep. I'm not._

But he knew he would. This was too much for him.

"Ford...Ford," he gasped, "You're in charge."

"Come on Major Sheppard, you'll be okay," a panicked Ford said as he laid his CO across the ground.

Tayla and him immediately began cleansing and applying pressure to the wound.

The only person that might have looked worse than the Major was McKay, who was sitting beside their leader, squeezing his hand. Rodney was unnaturally pale and clammy, a normal side affect for anyone nearly shot down, but it was the guilt riddled conscience that took his sweats and shivers to a whole new level.

"John, John, I'm...I'm...so...so..."

"Is there such thing as a hearing astigmatism?" the injured man asked, as he forcibly placed a smile on his face, "I'm hearing everything twice."

"Shh. Save your strength."

_Jokes are my strength. It's all I have left after being bled dry. It's the only thing left as my mind goes blank._

"John," Rodney continues, "I am so sorry, it was allmyfaultIoh...I GOT YOU SHOT!"

Rodney begins to shake and repeat over and over his apologies.

John's eyes were fixed on McKay, but his thoughts floated to Wier. Her smile, her laugh, the eyebrow...it physically ached as he realized he'd never see her again.

_Huh, another thing I've learned today...Peas and Weir...Whodda thought._

The blackness came in clouds over his eyes.

"'sokay-Mckee-...."

He sighed, he never shouted or groaned. The screams were internal as he submitted himself into the black fog.


	5. Trust

**Chapter 5**

"I killed the man."

"He's only unconscious."

"Yes, _only_, only bleeding..."

McKay's voice droned off as the heard the return of the footsteps. Who were they going to kill next?

"He needs medical attention now," the Athosian pleaded to Ford.

The young man nodded and turned his attention to the opening door. Ford stood up and greeted the guards and their leader.

"He needs medical attention. We've got to get him back home."

"I understand this, but we cannot let you out because we cannot trust you to move about freely."

"How can we regain your trust?"

"By eating," Dryros said as he extended something that resembled a hotdog to Ford, "And then we shall see."

Ford, nodded and grabbed the hot dog. He swallowed his saliva before he would even get it close to his mouth. Sweat poured down his face. But he would do it. Oh he would do it.

"Wait!" McKay said as he sprung up, "Let me. I got him shot. _I_ ruined everything."

Ford contemplated this for a moment, and McKay sought this opportunity to yank the food, which was to him a donut, from the Lieutenant's hand.

"Are you sure doc?"

"It's food. 'Course I'm sure."

With a scared smile, he bit into it and chewed. And then another bite...then another till it was gone.

Dryos smiled and nodded his head.

"Well done, well done. You are free to go."

"Wait," Tayla asked, "I do not understand. Was this some type of test?"

"Indeed it was. See, we are old enemies of the Ancients. They let us get eaten up by the Wraith, with all their technology they didn't do a thing. There are only a few tribes of my kind left...This food is laced with a poison, don't worry, it's a poison that is only activated by the ancient gene and causes instant death. All our visitors are required to partake in this test."

Rodney paled.

"What's this poison made of?"

"The trees' leaves...The storm is over, we apologize for hurting your man."

"Yeah, well, We're outta here."

"I'm going to die..." whispered McKay, "Death by donut."

Dryos and his men left.

This left Tayla and Ford staring at McKay expecting the doc to keel over at any minute.

...

An apologetic Dryos waved goodbye as the explorers crossed through the stargate. He lent them his camels to help make up for their troubles. They were a peaceful people. For the most part.

On the other side of the stargate, Weir's eyebrow shot up as Ford's code rang through and she gave the command to lower the shield.

_Come on! Find a ZPM... let them be ok...Come on...but why did Sheppard not code in? Oh no...Think positive, Elizabeth...What's wrong? Something has to be wrong. _

She smiled to herself, that was something Sheppard taught her.

Elizabeth found her answer as Ford and Tayla carried John's limp body through the stargate and set him on the ground.

"Medic!" Elizabeth found herself screaming. Her voice came out more shrilly than expected.

_Control. It's John, he'll be ok. He will._

Rodney waddled in behind the others, throwing up. In fact he looked green.

_What did he do now?_

Weir rushed down the stairs and greeted her team.

"What happened, wait..." her gaze drifted to John as Beckett and the other doctors lifted him onto a gurney and wheeled him away in a flood of controlled chaos, "Ok. Now, what happened?"

"Well, Doctor, the trouble started when we took our first break. We settled down and dropped our bags of food and supplies next to Tayla. It was quicksand ma'am, but we managed to pull Tayla out. But we didn't have but one canteen of water..."

"I nearly died."

Weir nodded, and found her attention drifting away and settling on the corridor where the Major had disappeared.

"Doctor, doctor..."

"Hmm?"

"McKay was poisoned as well."

She eyed the barfing McKay.

_That's why he was so quiet._

A nurse was already leading him away, holding a bucket in front of his face. What a thankless job.

Sighing, Weir requested they go up to her office and discuss in more detail what happened and why her leading scientist could not keep anything down and why her chief security officer was gushing blood.

What a thankless job.

a/n No, I don't hate McKay, I think he's funny. It's just he fell victim to being a plot device...


	6. Umm, Shouldn't he be dead?

**Chapter 6**

Beckett was appreciative of Tayla's and Ford's work on the wound. They had done a good job of stemming the blood flow. His patient had been immediately wheeled into surgery and slapped down on a gurney under glowing yellow lights. The bullet had found its way into the Major's appendix, which was easily removed. The blood he lost was easily transfused in. The stitches were easily sown in place. Yet, the patient had not recovered. In fact, there were no signs of recovery. The fever burned the body, as chills shook it.

He stared down at the military man. Anyone in the Major's excellent physical condition should have recovered. And yet, there were no fluttering of the eyes, no attempt to seize consciousness. Beckett prayed silently that it wasn't a coma. Three days after surgery...the patient should have woken up.

Weir watched in disgust as Mckay swallowed half a corn dog swimming in chili.

"Don't look at me like that. I haven't eaten real food in three days. Nothing would stay down."

"You're going to make me loose my lunch."

"Not hungry? Mind if I have some of that...ah...is it ceaser salad? Because I only like ranch."

Instead of responding she shoves a forkful of ranch dressed lettuce in her mouth.

"Ah. I'll just go get my own then."

She nodded as Mckay and his empty tray headed toward the mess hall.

They were in the infirmary, watching the Major sleep after some tests Carson performed on him. For some reason she couldn't tear herself away from John's bedside. Beckette even brought her food, and unfortunately Rodney as well, whom he found in line for chili dogs.

The Major couldn't wake up to eat with them. Then again he didn't need to. He was connected to a feeding tube, a venalator, pain meds...and Weir realized the real source of her nausea. John shouldn't have to go through this.

But that was one thing that comforted her. He _was_ going through this. Carson said his brain waves were steady and that "the Major" was still in there.

Elizabeth swallowed the growing lump in her throat and put down her food. She couldn't eat, who was she kidding?

If you can't sleep, you can't eat, and you can't think.

And you don't know why you can't.

Beckette thanked the nurse for the results on Sheppard's blood test. He held it up next to Mckay's. Once again the doctor had been right. Sheppard should have recovered from the bullet wound. It hadn't struck any vital organs. But the damage wasn't the impact...it was the actual bullet.

Sighing, he glanced over at Weir holding Sheppard's hand. From across the infirmary he could see her blink back tears.

There had to be a cure.

But none came to mind.

The bullet, according to the data, released a stream of poison. The same poison that Rodney ingested.

He watched as his newly recovered patient took Weir's salad and ingested 2/3 rds of it in one bite. Definitely healthy.

"Rodney come over here."

"Sure."

"You have an artificial version of the ancient gene, and less of it than Sheppard, ay?"

"Yes."

"So if he had been exposed to the poison, he'd be dead. Instantly."

"Yes. Is that it? Because I have lots to do," he said as he eyed the remaining leaves of the salad.

"No. Listen. The bullet had the poison in it... released it into his system...and I don't understand why he's not completely dead."

"I threw it up...and felt really bad the whole time till it was out of my system. Maybe, I could give him some blood or..."

"No...no, you have different types. But you are on to something. Did you fight the poison or did you throw it up?"

"Umm..."

Carson looked squarely at McKay.

"What I'd do for a sample of those leaves..."

McKay diverted his glance.

"What I'd do for a sample of those-"

"Oh I heard you doctor. Fine. Fine. It's in my vest pocket. How did you know?"

"I know you too well."

"And...er...how exactly are you going to test this idea of yours? On that mouse you injected right? The one you tested your gene experiments on?"

The doctor let out a laugh.

"No, Rodney, no. I'm afraid they died from another little-ay-regrettable experiment."

"Then what are you going to use?"

The doctor let out a laugh again and asked Mckay to select a hospital gown in the color of his choice.

3


	7. And so it ends

**Ch.7**

Weir was oblivious to all, except the pale hand in hers. The doctors had disappeared somewhere but she didn't care.

"John, come on. Wake up."

What she meant to come out as an order, became more of a plead.

She had lost men through the star gate. But it never occurred to her that she could loose John. He was a main pillar that helped her support Atlantis. More importantly they supported each other. With out him, she felt alone. Almost afraid to venture out of the infirmary and stand at the command post alone.

Finally tired of wiping away tears, Elizabeth let them flow down her cheeks.

_Get a hold of yourself Weir. He's not dead...yet. Don't think like that! DON'T!_

"Come on John. If you wake up, I'll have the cook make a dozen turkey sandwiches. And then...and then, I'll get Ford to guard McKay from your sandwiches. Otherwise you wouldn't stand a chance. Yeah, you're kind of pale, John," her voices wavered, but she kept talking, more for her therapy than his, "I'll set up a picnic outside and eat with you. If you share that is. It's up to you. We could have wine, and some music in the background."

She smiled to herself. The tears had stopped.

"But that wouldn't happen would it, John? You're too respectful, you'd worry how it'd look, right? Even though I'm civilian...You'd worry how it would affect my authority with the others...But that's ok, because if you wake up, that'll be enough for me. As long as you still come into my office after dinner for our chats about-about nothing. Just as long as I can see your smile."

Her voice broke, and she swallowed some water from dinner.

"DANG IT JOHN! YOU'VE BEEN SHOT BEFORE! GET UP!"

Beckette came rushing in and looked at her with worried eyes.

"Doctor Weir, I think you might be disturbing my other patients."

"Sorry, doctor."

"Why don't you go to bed?"

"Because I can't sleep."

Carson starred her down till had no other choice to spin around and try to go to sleep.

He made sure she was gone till he rolled McKay's gurney next to John's.

McKay, in his brown hospital gown, mumbled to himself about how he always got into these situations and all he wanted to do was to tinker around in his lab. But his comments stopped as he glanced at John. He took a bullet for him, and now it was his turn to return the favor.

Beckett jabbed several needles and monitors into Rodney's arm and finally held up the poisonous candy bar. Only, to Carson it looked like a sugary chick Peep. Rodney took it, and without hesitation downed the bar in only three bites.

"And you think you'd have been full by now."

"Haha."

In a matter of seconds, McKay began to turn green and hurl out the plentiful contents of his stomach.

Hours later, he continued, just like the first time. Beckette, gathered vials, and ran them though the centrifuge and then put it under the microscope. Being a doctor for so long removed any sensations of being grossed out. Instead, he marveled at the body's defense system as he looked at traces of poison.

Staring at the barfing McKay, everything clicked.

When shot, the Major began throwing up, bile and blood, even though there wasn't much internal bleeding. His body was trying to fight the poison that spread through the body, probably latching onto minerals through digesting the food.

"YES!" Beckette shouted.

"What?" Rodney asked as he held the trash bucket under his chin.

"The body fights it off by throwing it up and out. Well, the Major had no food in his stomach. The bullet delivered the leaf poison by inserting it right in the blood stream, and he probably bled most of it out, but it must have gotten somehow into his digestive track, too-But not enough because he didn't eat it-that's why he didn't die in an instant. He couldn't throw anything up because he didn't have food in his stomach-oh, but wait..."

"What? It sounds good to me."

"No, no, ay...You didn't have anything in your stomach either, but you vomited."

"I um," Rodney's face went from green to red, "When were taking a break we had three bars left from the quicksand incident...and Sheppard gave me his."

"Ah...ok, so we are back on track."

McKay nodded, but that brought about another wave of nausea.

"I got it!"

"Got what?"

But Beckette didn't answer as he threw the curtain between him and John closed.

"Get a stomach pump stat! With all these feeding tubes we're making it worse."

An hour and a pump later, John opened his eyes. The first person he saw was Weir, and then his eyes traveled to a green McKay, (who was now washed up and barf-free) and settled on Beckette who had collapsed in a chair.

"Hey doc. What's going on? Are they trying to steal my dinner tray?"

"Good morning, John," Weir said as she tried to suppress a smile that would spread ear to ear.

"We got back? Good job Ford."

"Thank you, sir."

Beckette then regained some energy and pushed all the visitors out like an overbearing mother hen. But Weir, winning the starring contest this time, remained inside.

"Good to have you back Major. The kids really missed you."

"Heh. When will I be back on my feet?"

"A week?"

"Nah. Help me up. I've been here long enough."

"Major! You are to stay in that bed till Carson tells you its okay."

"But then how are we ever going to have that picnic?"

Elizabeth gasped and her hand flew to her chest, a look of horror normally would have spread across her face, but the genuine smile in John's eyes made her smile.

Everything would be okay.

a/n The end! Whew! And now I can study for my exams! Please review! Sorry for all the exclamations-I'm excited watching the election votes.

4


End file.
